


A Little Unsettled

by joyfulfeather



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyfulfeather/pseuds/joyfulfeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bout of nausea leads to a quiet moment between TJ and Young.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Unsettled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hurt/Comfort bingo (prompt: nausea).

One of the biggest problems with being stuck on this ship is the food. That's a given, I guess. We're lucky to _have_ food, even those not-so-sweet potatoes. I shouldn't complain about the quality. None of us should. When you're pregnant, though, food takes on this whole new meaning. I saw it in my sister and a couple friends who got pregnant before I left Earth. Cravings and nausea, the whole bit. I guess eating for two isn't a treat no matter where you are. And out here...

If I get a craving for something sweet, I don't get cookie dough ice cream. At best, I get a piece or two of something fruity. Even that's not a guarantee. At least I've been stationed off-world for long enough that I can handle that kind of lack of instant gratification. When we were on Icarus, it wasn't like we could go back through the 'gate just to hit Starbucks or McDonald's. On the other hand, we did have more variety in food. And in any case, being used to it doesn't make it suck any less.

When I _don't_ want something – or, I should say, when the baby doesn't want something – well, there's not a lot I can do about that, either. Some things I can avoid, sure, but if the baby doesn't like the gruel we get most days, it's going to have to deal. And so am I.

So here I am, dealing with it. Where by _dealing_ I mean standing in the infirmary, staring at the medical supply inventory, concentrating on keeping my lunch from making a repeat appearance. It's one of the quiet days around here, thank God, so there's no one in the infirmary to bother me.

“TJ?”

I should really know better than to think things like that.

I straighten up, swallowing hard, and turn to offer a pleasant expression to my commanding officer – who also happens to be the father of the baby I'm carrying. “Colonel.”

He's standing practically in the doorway, all the way across the room. I guess we have our space issues. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine, sir. I was just looking over the inventory. Which is fine,” I add, just to be clear.

He blinks, like for a second he doesn't know what I'm talking about. “Oh, well. That's good.” He takes a couple steps closer. “I wasn't --” Stopping, he hesitates, then says, “I was just wondering how you were doing.”

The man knows how to throw me. “Oh.” I blink back at him, leaning a hip against the counter. “I'm okay.” I even manage a little bit of a smile.

“You sure?” He moves closer again. “You look a little grey around the edges.”

“Yeah.” I shrug a little. “Well. The little one didn't really like lunch all that much.”

I think my honesty surprises him, or maybe he just hasn't thought about the demands a baby puts on its mother during pregnancy. Or at least, he hasn't thought about it as it might apply to me. We don't talk about the whole baby thing very much. “Oh,” is the sum of his immediate response.

No point in making him suffer through finding something else to say. “I'm just a little queasy,” I tell him as reassuringly as I can. “I'll be fine. And the baby's fine, too.”

He nods. And then it's his turn to surprise me, I guess, because he moves forward again. “Is there anything I can do?”

For a second, I don't have a clue how to respond, _Get us off this ship_ is my first strong reaction. Then _go back and **undo** this_ – and even I'm not sure if I mean the events that put us on the ship or the pregnancy itself.

Instead of giving voice to either of those – it's not like he can do anything about them, anyway – I offer him a half-smile, saying, “Find a planet with cheeseburgers and ice cream?”

He smiles back, looking a little relieved at the joke. “I'll work on that.” He surprises me again, though, saying more seriously, “If there's anything else, though, TJ...”

I feel my expression soften, touched by his concern. “I'll let you know,” I tell him quietly.

“Please do.” There's a moment of awkward silence. He shifts on his feet. “Well, I'll let you get back to it.”

“Yes, sir. And,” I begin before he can turn to go, then hesitate. He looks at me, waiting. “Thank you,” I say finally.

He offers me a small smile – the most he ever gives anyone, these days, I think – and then goes.

I turn back to my inventory sheet, leaning against the counter. It's funny. It wasn't much of a conversation, but somehow... I feel a little better now.


End file.
